Thief of Life
by MrsJoshHutcherson112
Summary: He would have traded anything to have her back, if only for one last argument or forced shopping trip. He would trade anything - his money, the mansion, everything he owned - for just one more night. One last chance to look into her glowing amber eyes and say goodbye. Natan angst. Post-DoD.


**A/N: Well, _I'm_ in an angsty mood, aren't I?**

**I never actually got the chance to write a purely Natan story...and now I can't. But this is my alternative.**

**Hope you like it. And David Baldacci, on the off-chance that you're reading this, I hope it makes you cry. I really do.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The 39 Clues.**

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The hole in the wall mocked him from across the room. _You rip a hole in me, but I do not break,_ it said,_ but if I were to rip a hole in your weak human heart, you would stay broken for the rest of your miserable life._

He crossed the room to bend down and pick up an object off the floor - a book, with a fancy title he didn't bother reading. It didn't matter, anyway. How could something so insignificant matter, when there were so many other bigger things to think about?

Dan briefly glanced at the hole in the wall caused by the corner of the book and shuffled back over to his bed, dropped the book back down on his nightstand.

He knew it wasn't good to dwell on what could have been. What he might have done differently, how he could have possibly prevented what had actually happened. It wasn't good. It wasn't healthy.

Yet he couldn't help but think about it. His thoughts were sucking him in and were not planning on letting him go.

He leaned against the wall, staring at that mocking hole on the opposite side of his bedroom.

The dark place in his brain told him yes. This was good. This was easy. All he had to do was stop resisting. It almost had a voice of its own, a calming, soothing voice that beckoned to him, implanted false impressions in his brain that everything would be alright.

It made him want to stay. To get away from the cruel, unrelenting jaws of reality that wouldn't release him.

That place was peaceful.

But no. He couldn't stay. His problems would never go away if he hid from them.

Like a true coward.

His thoughts attacked him, shoving him back as he tried to escape. The jaws looked so much more inviting now than the cool, comforting embrace of his subconscious. He tried to break free; the grip of the memories launched him backward, back against the wall of his mind.

He tried to pull his way out of the quicksand. The vortex latched onto him with a deathly tight grip, forcing his head down until he couldn't breathe, couldn't see light anymore. Gravity was pulling him under, holding him, drowning him. His thoughts trapped him inside his own mind, leaving him with the belief that he would never escape it.

So what was the point in trying if it was wasted effort?

He couldn't stop thinking about it. What could have happened versus what did happen.

He couldn't stop thinking about HER.

His eyes squeezed painfully shut and he slid down the wall, burying his face in his knees.

How could life be so cruel? It led you on, filling your head with illusions that you have a great life ahead of you, a bright future. You'll go to college, get a job. You'll get married. You'll raise a family with someone you love. You'll grow old together.

Then you'll die happy with the knowledge that you couldn't have spent your life in any better way.

But that was obviously not how it worked. He had seen enough proof of that in his thirteen years to judge for himself what was the truth and what was just cruel lies made up to trick the unguarded hearts of people who believed they could do anything. That they were invincible.

He knew what that felt like. He wasn't unfamiliar with that sense of untouchability, the impression you get that tells you you're bulletproof. And sometimes, he forgot that he wasn't. He wasn't untouchable. He wasn't bulletproof.

He felt so vulnerable right now, though, that he wondered if he would ever feel so strong again.

It burned his insides to think about stupid ideas like invincibility and happiness. Those misleading emotions had taught him nothing but how to feel true pain and misery. Sorrow and anguish. Death and suffering.

Death.

He clenched his teeth, biting down on the inside of his cheek until he could taste blood.

He knew what death was - knew how close you could be to the edge of the cliff before the wind blew you over the side. He'd seen it and nearly experienced it plenty of times. It had scarred him and taken away from him more times than he could count.

His parents. Grace. Irina, Lester, and Alistair.

Natalie.

Death had robbed him.

He pounded the carpeted floor angrily with a fist. Life wasn't fair. Death wasn't fair.

Nothing could ever be truly fair. That in itself was not fair.

He grabbed the book off the nightstand and chucked it at the wall for the second time that night. The hole now had a twin, a friend to join in on the mockery to his pain.

Lucky him. At least the hole had a companion.

Dan stared into them, his bloodshot eyes filling with unwelcome moisture. It shouldn't have happened. He should have done something. Anything.

He knew the machine had an ungodly amount of electricity running all through it. He could have warned her in time. He could have stopped her.

So why hadn't he?

He angrily used the back of his hand as a tissue and swiped the tears away before they could make their descent down his face. If they didn't leave trails, it didn't count as crying.

There were so many things he could have done. If it wasn't for him, she would be alive right now, yelling at him or complaining about the lack of shampoo in the guest bathroom.

But he hadn't done anything. She wasn't here to yell or complain.

And Dan missed it terribly.

He would much rather prefer a screaming match than sitting on his floor, dealing with this lasting heartache. He would have traded anything to have her back, if only for one last argument or forced shopping trip.

He would trade anything - his money, the mansion, everything he owned - for just one more night. One last chance to look into her glowing amber eyes and say goodbye.

A salty bead finally slipped its way past his defenses, but he didn't care. He deserved to hurt. The pain was welcome. He embraced it, because no amount of pain could ever compare to the crushing amount of guilt and regret he wore as a patch on his broken heart.

His throat closed up painfully and he almost choked. The tears slid freely now, any attempt to ward them off ceased.

He deserved everything his mind could throw at him, every last reason why it was his fault she died, every last scenario thought up by his subconscious, everything he could have done to make it alright again.

He felt like he wanted to die, too. Like that was the only way to make it even.

He didn't look up when he heard his bedroom door creak. He didn't want to know who it was that had heard the thump of the book against the wall and intruded on his mind's bombardment of pain to see what was going on.

He didn't open his eyes when he heard his sister speak.

Amy's words were knowing and soft. "It wasn't your fault, Dan."

He didn't move. He didn't acknowledge her presence, hoping against hope that she would take the hint and let him alone.

A small twinge of annoyance implanted itself underneath his skull when she lowered herself to the ground next to him.

She didn't speak for a while.

Good, he thought. Maybe she'll think about it long enough and get it through her head that I don't want to talk.

"There was nothing you could've done."

He could hardly hear her; she barely whispered it.

Dan exhaled shakily through his nose. She rested a hand soothingly on his back.

"Dan, you can't blame - "

"Who says I can't?" he exploded, spinning around to bore his shattered gaze into hers. He poked a finger into his chest, his green eyes glistening with stinging tears. "Why shouldn't I blame myself, when there are so many things I could have done!"

Amy pulled her hand back abruptly, her eyes falling away from his. She looked down at her lap, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

"So many things..." Dan's voice trailed off as he returned to his previous position, his back against the wall and his arms locked around his legs. He closed his eyes again.

His sister's voice wavered as she responded. "Think about it, Dan. There was nothing you could do; nothing any of us could do. We were too far away. Nothing we shouted could have ripped her attention away from what she was doing. She was too determined to listen to anything we tried to tell her."

"That doesn't mean I shouldn't have bothered trying," he retorted hotly. "She might have listened."

"Dan - "

"No, Amy! What don't you get about it?" Dan's eyes blazed. "If I would've tried something, there's the slight possibility she would be here right now!"

"You can't just - "

"STOP! I don't need this right now! Just... Leave, okay? Just leave me alone!"

Amy stood up, walking towards the closed door without a word. She grasped the doorknob, but faced him first. She spoke quietly.

"Natalie chose for herself, Dan," she said, looking him straight in the eyes. "Nothing you said could have changed her mind in a split second. She knew the risks she was taking."

Amy pulled the door open, stepping one foot out into the hall. "Think about it," were her last words to him before she left.

Dan rubbed his eyes, his fingertips coming back wet. How could she have known the risks? Her actions were so quick, how could she have even thought about what she was doing before she slammed the pole into the machine?

He didn't need this. He couldn't think anymore. Amy's words had derailed his train of thought, and whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, he didn't know. The only thing he felt now was the overwhelming blanket of drowsiness as he flopped onto his bed, yanking the covers all the way over his head.

It didn't matter. Amy could never understand how he felt.

She would never feel the constant stab of heartache he did whenever he remembered the sight of her lifeless body under that blanket. She would never experience the cold, hard pain he felt now as he buried his face into his pillow and let the cushion absorb his tears. She would never understand it.

He hardly understood it either, but whatever thoughts he had next were drowned out by the sound of sleep.

Dan dreamed they lived in a perfect world, where life was fair, death was fair, and Natalie Kabra was screaming at him for spilling grape juice on her new dress.

As he settled farther into his mattress, Dan smiled the first smile he had worn since Natalie's death. And he knew then that Natalie wasn't completely gone...

Because he could still be with her in his dreams.

**~Callie~**


End file.
